


Citrouille

by Hannigrammatic



Series: Murder Fluff - Murder Dating Timestamps [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Day Two: Pumpkins, Family Fluff, Hannictober 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: Some Murder Family fluff! Featuring pumpkins, for day two of Hannictober ♥





	

**Author's Note:**

> I miss this AU!!!
> 
> Not beta read~

“Ew!” Abigail’s face was a picture of disgust and amusement.

Will sighed good-naturedly and continued to dig out the pumpkin’s innards. They were in Hannibal’s kitchen together, him standing and his preteen daughter sitting on stool. Halloween approached, and she already had more than enough candy to hand out (though Will had a hard time imagining kids going trick-or-treating in this rich neighborhood, he knew that that was just him being biased.) 

“It looks like throw-up,” his daughter whispered behind one hand so that Hannibal couldn’t hear.

The man in question was standing at the stove, poring over dessert. Something fancy with a name Will didn’t bother to learn how to pronounce.

“Abigail, that is disgusting,” Hannibal scolded her regardless, ears apparently as sensitive as his nose.

Abigail rolled her eyes and Will snorted. She winked at him conspiratorially, and he returned it.

“It really does,” Will could barely refrain from snickering at the sigh Hannibal almost immediately let out. 

“You’re both about to be banned from my kitchen,” the man sounded amused despite his words. “And your father will be sleeping on the couch, I believe.”

Will’s daughter giggled at her father’s misfortune, and he mock-glared at her betrayal. Eventually, Abigail helped him scoop out the guts and seeds from within, and finally they appraised the finished, hollowed pumpkin.

“I want a scary face on it,” the preteen demanded. “Really scary.”

Will raised a brow and glanced over at his boyfriend’s back. Hannibal wore the apron that Will had bought him, the cheap one with ‘the Chef knows Best’ stitched onto the front.

“Hannibal,” he said, drawing out the last part of his name. 

“Yes, darling?” Hannibal didn’t look over his shoulder and continued to stir the contents of the pot before him.

“Abigail wants a scary face on the pumpkin.”

“So I have heard.”

Will rolled his eyes when he knew Hannibal was looking, and smirked at the huffy sound the older man made in response. He reached forward to turn the burner down, and then washed his hands. As he dried them, he walked closer to father and daughter.

“One must always suffer for art,” Hannibal said. 

He wrapped an arm around Will’s waist as he drew closer, and the younger man smiled up at him, almost managing to hold in his blush. Abigail pretended to gag at the sight, and both men told her off jokingly. After a time, she grew antsy, and Hannibal finally picked up one of the black Sharpie markers with an eye-roll of his own. 

“It shall be the scariest pumpkin on the block,” he stated. “Provided your father manages to carve it properly.”

“Gee, thanks,” Will punched Hannibal’s arm lightly. “No faith, I swear.”

“Can I help carve it?” Abigail asked, eyelashes fluttering innocently.

Will narrowed his eyes slightly but didn’t say no. After a time, Hannibal began to sketch onto the round surface of the pumpkin. Afterwards, he stood back and showed it to them both. 

“That’s not very scary,” Abigail said. “It needs more fangs.”

“There are quite enough of those,” Will protested. “We’ll be here all night if he adds more.”

Hannibal tilted his head, as if to look at them both and compromising instead. He leaned forward and squinted at the pumpkin.

“I believe you’re right, Abigail,” he finally said.

By the time they finished carving it, the work passed between all three of them despite Hannibal’s initial mild protests, the pumpkin is suitably scary. Upon it is depicted a monstrous face, partially animalistic with a large, leering mouth full of jagged fangs. Will had carved the eyes, Abigail the nose, and Hannibal a majority of the teeth, his need for perfection coming out as it usually did. Will and Abigail didn’t mind giving him the harder job, though.

“I hope no one smashes it,” Abigail said later, as they sat at the dining table over plates of some sort of steaming cake.

Hannibal paused as he stood over Will, dribbling caramel over his plate studiously. He looked between her and at the blue eyes suddenly peering up at him suspiciously.

“There will be _no_ murdering on Halloween,” he said sternly.

Abigail giggled, and Hannibal pouted, put-upon by the firm tone his younger lover spoke with. Much later, Abigail went to bed, belly full of cake and roasted pumpkin seeds, and she hugged both of her fathers before tucking herself in.

“She’s growing up too fast,” Will said longingly, staring after her. 

Hannibal made a quiet humming sound and then drew him close to nibble at his jawline, before peppering kisses down his neck. Will sighed, relaxed in his arms, and smiled contentedly. Their lips met in a chaste, loving kiss, that turned into two, three, and then into a deeper, wetter ordeal including tongues and groping hands. Will pulled away, blushing.

“I mean it, by the way,” he whispered against Hannibal’s mouth. “No murdering on Halloween.”

“Abigail will be rather upset if her scary pumpkin is smashed,” Hannibal played with a curl of the younger man’s hair.

“I didn’t say that rule extended to me,” Will replied, deadpan.

Hannibal laughed heartily and embraced him tightly, nuzzling into his hair and nipping at the shell of his ear.

“Dear Will,” he murmured affectionately. “How you continue to delight me.”


End file.
